I was drowning. His words and his touch overwhelmed every one of my senses. Vaguely aware we were standing in the street in full view of curious passersby and probably Sylvie, I struggled to find my common sense, or any of the bitterness or anger I’d felt moments before. But all I wanted to do was sink into his touch. My heart was on fire.

His body, held a respectable distance from mine, told me he was aware of our surroundings too. “Please. Josephine.” He pulled back, his blue eyes dark eclipses. “See me later? Tell me where. Tell me when.” His fingers ran over my face.

I nodded, breathless, my veins singing with his words. His confession. He loved me. But … he’d told me himself he didn’t trust his feelings. Could he really have changed?

His shoulders sank with relief at my nod.

“Um. Can I call you?” I asked. “I have … I have work. And plans.” Cancel everything, my heart shouted. “And I need … I need to think. I need to think about whether I … believe you, and what that means.”

“Of course,” he said, swallowing heavily and stepping back. A grimness was already creeping into his countenance, like a man who knew the blow was coming and was marshalling all his armor to withstand the force of it. His hand moved to rub the center of his chest. “Of course, I understand.”

“H—how long are you here?” I asked.

He let out a humorless laugh and scrubbed a hand down his face.

“What’s funny?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing is funny. Ironic, maybe. I have made plans to stay for a while. An endless while. I hoped to show you I meant everything I said about how I feel. But I can see it might be too late.”

“Oh.” Confusion and joy and wariness all competed for my attention. His eyes grew sad, letting me see his emotions in a way I never had. I could tell him it wasn’t too late. But I didn’t know.

We gazed at each other, new wariness and vulnerability clashing with the realities of our situation and growing into a chasm between us. And God, not forgetting that no matter what he’d just said, words that I wanted to wallow in and savor and study and cradle, I lived here. He lived there. It was hopeless. I blinked back a fresh burn of tears.

“I will be here for as long as it takes,” he said.

“But what about your business?”

He shrugged. “I own it. I feel like doing business from here now.”

“Oh,” I said weakly. “And what about Dauphine?” God, Dauphine, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of her until this second.

“She’s here.”

My head whipped around in both directions. “Wait. Where?”

“Right now? She is with a nanny at the hotel we are staying at. The Planter’s Inn. You know it?”